When his hair was long

When his hair was long

When his hair was long
and his waist was slim,
when the booze had not yet
crackled his skin;

when his eyes were clear,
ideals still intact
and trite cynicism
was not yet a fact,

she loved him.

Keeping it Right

Keeping it Right

We've been on strike a few times now. 
We're not concerned about the reason 
but for the smell of the picket line. 
And when it's over, armbands stowed, 
work is brighter for a time, 
scabs slinking in 
as we look bosses in the eye. 
No one can quite hold our stare.

Portent

Portent

I was ready to go out,
About to leave the flat,
Had done the washing up,
Had found my hat.

I had put my lenses in
And brushed my teeth (I'm sure),
Put on my coat and opened
The front door.

I stepped out for the Tube
With all day trippers gone,
When I noticed that I had
My slippers on.